Chapter Text
Gehrman tented his hands, watching Laurence from afar. He observed him carefully, but did not listen to what he was saying. He was busy lecturing, with plenty of intent students to do so for him.
Laurence was staying nearly still as he explained, something that to most wouldn’t be surprising, but Gehrman knew him better; if it were possible Laurence would wear tracks across the lecture hall floor.
Laurence stopped talking for a moment, and scholars raised their hands. He watched Laurence take this opportunity, stepping forward with relief twinkling in his eyes as he placed a hand onto the sturdy brown desk, closer to the questioner. Laurence did not return to the diagrams behind him, and continued to lean on the desk whenever he could afterwards.
Gehrman remained as students and others filed out.
“Do you need help, old man?” Gehrman asked lightly, walking to the front of the room.
“Old man?” Laurence asked incredulously.
“I’m no fool. You act like you’re eighty with all that hobbling about you’ve been doing.” Gehrman replied, raising an eyebrow.
Laurence frowned, wrinkling his nose and turning away, “I’m a bit sore is all.” he responded shortly.
“From what?” Gehrman questioned, pulling his head back a little.
Laurence huffed and did not answer. Gehrman considering extending his hand and digging further, but he knew Laurence would have none of it, and though Gehrman respected the man greatly he did not have the patience to deal with him when he shut off.
Gehrman left Laurence, he’d take none of it.
“Have you noticed anything strange of the vicar?” Gehrman asked lightly once again, looking at Ludwig.
Ludwig thought for a moment, shifting forward in a chair much too small for him, “Well, yes… but I do not know if we should speak of him like this.”
“My only concern is for his health, Ludwig. I’m not one to gossip.” Gehrman huffed, giving the man a wiry smile.
Ludwig’s eyes narrower, and he nodded, “He’d been retiring earlier and earlier, and he doesn’t seem to want to walk.”
Gehrman let out a sigh, leaning on his hand, “yes I have noticed as well. I tried to speak to him, but he wouldn’t answer me.”
“Did you start out with a joke?” Ludwig asked, giving him a skeptical raise of his eyebrow.
“Yes.” He replied.
Ludwig made a flat face in response.
“I didn’t need him thinking I was babying him—you know how he is with that.” Gehrman muttered. “Don’t treat me like a child, Gehrman, I’m a grown man, Gehrman.” He huffed, tapping his forefinger and his thumb together mockingly.
Ludwig sighed and nodded, turning away, causing the chair to squeak in reply. Ever since the split from Byrgenwerth, Laurence did not lend himself to assistence.
“Perhaps if we both go he’ll explain, just a bit.” Ludwig chirped hopefully, bringing his arm around Gehrman unexpectedly and pulling him out of his chair onto his feet.
Gehrman knew not to complain, but he did feel light headed. Ludwig dragged him through the hallways with his toes hardly touching the ground for a majority of it.
Why must the man be so tall? He thought as Ludwig finally released him.
Gehrman stepped through the door first, letting it creak a little bit to let their presence be known, but not enough so that it would wake the Vicar if he slept at his desk, which wasn’t a rare spectacle.
The work room was full of various contraptions and diagrams and notes and books and specimens and the like, though Gehrman didn’t pay too much attention.
“Laurence?” he heard Ludwig’s voice softly filter through the room, but no one replied.
Gehrman entered Laurence’s sleeping chambers to find them disordered. The sheets of his bed were tossed about, like Laurence was fighting with them. Various things were knocked over and a few books littered the floor.
Gehrman left the room, more puzzled than he had been beforehand.
They shrugged at each other and turned around, about to leave when Laurence did show up, one hand on the decorated wall. His skin was paler than usual; not in the normal sort of way.
“What are you doing here?” He hissed, despite his eyes narrowing, they looked glazed over.
“Vicar, forgive us, we were worried.” Ludwig answered immediately with a slightly bow of his head.
“Worried?” Laurence asked, putting a hand over his heart, “I am only slightly ill is all.”
Gehrman raised an eyebrow, “It’s a bit odd that someone who partakes of the blood would be ill.”
Laurence frowned, biting the inside of his lip, not responding. Despite his almost meek appearance, he still withheld a fire, like some wounded dragon.
“Forgive us, please.” Ludwig asked quietly, looking away.
“Just leave me be, I’ll be fine.” Laurence sighed finally, taking the hand from his heart and placing it over his mouth,
“I am simply irritable—you are not at fault—perhaps I am a bit stressed.” He gave them a half reassuring smile and walked off a bit more confidently.
Gehrman nodded, but felt something sink into his stomach. It was doubt, but he did not believe Laurence was insincere—not entirely anyway. Was the blood failing? No, they’d have found that out before hand—possibly.
He’d have to continue his observations, but he wouldn’t confront Laurence yet, and he couldn’t share with Ludwig either—bless the man but he was awfully optimistic at times and awfully not at others. He did not wish for either to get harmed, he could not act rashly himself either.
Gehrman watched when he could. It was not often; he was busy. He had places to go and things to take care of, but he could return to the church, on occasion, and watch his vicar from a distance.
He felt guilt set in whenever Laurence or Ludwig made conversation for him, because despite his attempts at being sneaky, he came off as being more reserved than usual. He’d endure the injury to his honor just long enough, but it certainly did not sit well with him.
Gehrman was not a particularly dubious man, nor was he skilled at the art of stealth, but he could hide himself, somewhat. He was good enough to manage himself into the mostly empty lecture hall.
He slipped into the room, waiting for the hall to become quiet, and listening closely for the sound of pen hitting parchment.
It was quite dark in the great hall, with its high ceilings and narrow windows to let in sunlight, but the clouds gathered rains and darkened the room so thoroughly that hardly but a whisper of light patched through the windows.
He left the door ajar, and only briefly made his way closer. He could see Laurence sitting dutifully at the desk, scribbling away. It reminded him of the early days, and for a brief moment Gehrman felt a flicker of a smile at his cheeks.
He could imagine it—a somewhat less pale Laurence, with a more scruffy appearance and more wild eyes and more unkempt, but only slightly, explaining devotedly his plans to Gehrman.
He slipped through the shadows, airing out his brief memories, squinting his eyes in the dark. Laurence had but one candle with him, but it was just enough light Gehrman dared not get closer than his present few yards away.
The writing was chicken scratch to him, literally. He could not seem distinguish Laurence’s writing from scribbles, and it was not a matter of poor penmanship; it looked as though he’d been running the pen along, trying to form words but he simply could not.
Laurence growled, slamming the pen down and crumbling the paper, tearing it in one motion, harshly disturbing the peace.
He ran his hands through his hair, and at first Gehrman presumed Laurence was muttering to himself, but as he listened in closer it sounded more like snarling. It went on for a brief time, and then Laurence lowered his head onto the desk, silencing himself, and letting his hands fall.
He sat motionless for a while, then suddenly twitched, nails digging into the wooden desk, making a grating sound. His fingers looked more like claws for a moment, twisting into the wood before relaxing as suddenly after they tore into the desk.
Laurence raised his head after a time, placing a clean sheet of paper and beginning to write once more, this time with more success.
He watched Laurence’s eyes as he backed away, further into darkness. Pain flickered like a candle, washing in his brownish green eyes with orange light. It flickered and danced frantically, and yet had a sort of soft feeling, being suppressed by the dark.
Gehrman thought for a moment, realizing he could not quite leave the room. Laurence would notice most likely, and with Gehrman’s back turned Laurence would know what he'd been up to.
Forgive me old friend, he thought, screwing his courage, and beginning to step as though he entered the room.
Laurence jumped, banging his knee under the table, halting a curse in his throat, “Oh, Gehrman. How is our hunter?” He asked.
“I am… well.” Gehrman mumbled, stopping in front of the desk.
Laurence squinted at him briefly, “Do you need something?”
Gehrman fumbled for a moment, mind whirring, “Nothing—I was simply. I was simply—I wanted to see you is all.” He answered.
Laurence seemed to lighten all at once, his expression softened and the pain died away, “Oh, I am glad to hear. I was worried that I had somehow offended you.”
Gehrman stayed his frown, returning an awkward smile instead, “Not at all.”
Laurence turned his head back to his work, “That’s good, yes. How have you been? I’ve been busy myself.”
Gehrman felt his stomach twist, silently protesting, “I have been busy as well.” His voice came out constrained.
Laurence’s eyes met Gehrman’s, eyebrows furrowing, “What troubles you?”
Gehrman would have laughed had it not been inappropriate; Laurence was surely a man of many inconsistencies—do not receive help, but was sure and ready to give it when he noticed.
“Well—I’ve just been contemplating. Things in the past—things that trouble me is all. Forgive me, old friend.” He replied after taking time to consider his words.
Laurence stood up, walking around the desk to put a hand on his shoulder. Gehrman resisted the urge to jump or pull away as the guilt made a cold fire in his stomach, “The past is in the past, don’t worry. Things will work out, I’m sure.”
He gave Gehrman a soft smile, then went back to his desk with a brief bit of effort.
Gehrman nodded, running his hand over the back of his neck. He felt so utterly and overly wrong, and as they made a bit more conversation he felt yet more so wrong until he nearly felt sick. Laurence did not notice, and Gehrman left with a short goodbye.
“You’ve been withdrawn.” Ludwig commented as Gehrman began to eat, not that he was particularly hungry after his encounter with Laurence.
“I’ve been thinking.” He replied shortly. It was hard enough lying in Laurence’s face, he did not wish to injure Ludwig as well.
Ludwig tilted his head, “Thinking? What could you possibly be thinking about?”
“The past, and I’ve already gotten a lecture from Laurence.” He replied.
Ludwig was silent for a moment, “You’re still worried, aren’t you?”
Gehrman cursed in his mind; of course if anyone were to find him in a lie, it’d be Ludwig.
“Of course I am still worried.” He huffed, putting his utensils down.
“You must trust in the vicar. I understand you are skeptical, as am I, but you must trust his insight.”
“It is not his insight I do not trust.” Gehrman folded his hand together.
Ludwig sighed, rubbing his temples, “Gehrman, I know you. You are a good man, and an honest man. Lying and deceiving is unbecoming of you. I do not know what you are up to exactly, but please, if not for his or my sake, for your own I’d suggest you stop before you get hurt, or someone else is.” He replied.
Gehrman felt his blood boiling, aggravation building in his chest like a sort of hot stone. He did not appreciate being lectured again, nor did he appreciate getting called out—he had every right to be worried, he was not going to let some foolish pride get in the way if something was wrong.
Gehrman felt his hands slam onto the table, and his chair screech as he stood abruptly, “The man is a prideful fool and I will not let his self-destructive tendencies get in the way. If you’d like to sit around and let that happen, then fine by me, but I am going to save his ass before he has an aneurysm and dies!” His voice quaked, feeling his voice rise much more than he was used to.
He could not stop himself—he’d been too stressed, too angry. The words fell out of his mouth like venom, and he watched Ludwig shrink, eyes wide like a very large but very frightened mouse.
He could feel the accusation strike him like a javelin, words piercing Ludwig’s more gentle nature.
Ludwig closed his mouth, swiftly parting of his chair, and left without another word, leaving Gehrman alone in the dining room.
If he didn’t want his food before, he certainly didn’t want it then.
Gehrman did not talk to either Ludwig or Laurence for a while after that. He knew it was wrong, but he did not wish to confront either of them (even if Laurence did not know) and so he avoided both of them.
He skirted around doors and buildings, but he couldn’t avoid the church. There were semi-regular evening conferences he had to attend to, and of course the Holy Blade would be there.
“Ludwig.” He said quietly.
“Gehrman.” Ludwig replied.
They bowed their heads at one another, leaving a very confused Laurence in the middle.
They spoke at the table, discussing matters Gehrman had a mixture of levels of interest in. The short, curt replies between himself and Ludwig became more apparent as Laurence spoke less and watched more, becoming befuddled but saying nothing. He seemed to grow wearier as well.
“Well, it appears there are some unresolved pressures, so we shall resume this conference later.” Laurence sighed and stood.
Various church members and officials left, leaving Gehrman, who did not want to leave in fear of being even more of a coward, and Ludwig.
He stood and walked over, and Ludwig stood up as well, looking down at him with a distant look in his eyes.
“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, “I should not have lost my temper at you, you were only… concerned, just as I was, and I should not have shouted at you, and I should not have been snooping around.”
Ludwig nodded, “It’s alright, and I know where you came from. It must be truly distressing if you lose your temper.” He left off with a grin spreading on his face.
Gehrman sighed, relief leaving his constricted lungs all at once, “Thank you for your forgiveness friend.”
Ludwig swung an arm around Gehrman’s shoulder, pushing him towards the door and speaking broadly, half chastising him and half not.
Gehrman was thankful, but a certain fear was still straining within him. He could not place why, but he knew he was still concerned. Though he apologized to Ludwig, he was still resolved to find out what was wrong with Laurence.